Substitute
by just jen
Summary: Wiggleslash, GA, MJ. The Wiggles decide it's time for a change.


Title: Substitute  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Summary: The Wiggles decide it's time for a change.  
  
Warning: Fluffy fluffy fluff.  
  
Disclaimer: There are actors, and there are characters. Actors are (usually) talented individuals who should be praised highly for their work, and allowed to have private lives away from the spotlight. Characters are entirely fictitious and non-existent, and cannot be harmed or damaged in any way. This story involves the characters and not the actors: in no way am I suggesting that Anthony Field and Greg Page are secretly snuggling when the cameras aren't rolling. I'm just having a bit of fun with the characters they play.  
  
Author's note 1: I really can't be blamed for this. The show itself identifies pairings. I can't help it if Anthony's always pestering Greg during his magic practise, or if it's always Murray and Jeff laying side by side watching the clouds, and the less said about the Captain and Wags, the better.  
  
Author's note 2: The song Murray sings. It's no masterpiece, I know, but this is 'The Wiggles'. My first thought was to go with something more romantic, but somehow I just can't picture Murray singing love songs. Not even to Jeff.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"And as you can see, the little red ball has disappeared!"  
  
Greg proudly waved his empty hand to demonstrate the absence of said ball. Anthony's eyes widened in astonishment, and he clapped appreciatively.  
  
"Wow! That's fantastic, Greg. How did you do that?"  
  
Greg smiled at the compliment, but told Anthony, "I'm sorry, but a magician never reveals his secrets." On the other side of the table, the blue Wiggle looked duly dismayed.  
  
"Oh," he mumbled, then suddenly his eyes lit up again. "Well, could you do it once more? I want to watch it again. Please, Greg."  
  
Greg frowned for a moment: another cardinal rule of magic was that you should never perform the same trick twice for the same audience. But Anthony was such a keen and enthusiastic audience, and he did tend to pout terribly when he was disappointed.  
  
"Alright," Greg conceded. "I suppose I do need the practise."  
  
Straight away, Anthony beamed widely, watching expectantly as Greg prepared to perform the trick again.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, imagining an auditorium full of people where there was really just Anthony in the kitchen, "I hold in my hand one perfectly ordinary red ball." He bounced it on the tabletop to prove that it was indeed a perfectly ordinary red ball. "Now watch as I –"  
  
"Why is it red?"  
  
Greg very nearly dropped the little red ball. That wasn't how it was supposed to go. His audience was not meant to interrupt him like this.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Why is it red? The ball?" Anthony gestured to the ball in Greg's hand.  
  
"It just is," Greg sighed.  
  
"But, wouldn't it be better if the ball was yellow, to match you cape and your clothes?" The blue Wiggle smiled, as if this was the best idea he'd ever had.  
  
"The colour of the ball doesn't make any difference to the magic trick, Anthony."  
  
"It doesn't?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"So can I carry on? You did ask to see me make the ball disappear."  
  
Anthony heaved a sigh, but nodded. He did look apologetic, but Greg still found it hard to ignore his irritation. This was magic practice after all, not a magic show, and he needed to concentrate. Having Anthony butting in every few seconds didn't help.  
  
"Where was I?" he muttered, trying to remember what part of the trick he was up to. "Right, so watch please, as I make the little red ball - "  
  
"Does it have to be a ball?"  
  
This time, Greg wrapped his hand tightly around the little red ball to make a fist, his knuckles almost turning white as he concentrated on not yelling at his friend.  
  
"It just is a ball, Anthony," he muttered between clenched teeth.  
  
"But could you make something else disappear?" Anthony's voice was infuriatingly chirpy, as though he honestly didn't know how irritating he was. "Like an egg? Or maybe an apple? That's the same shape as a ball."  
  
"Yes, it has to be a ball, Anthony." It took all Greg's willpower not to wang the little red ball at Anthony's fuzzy head. Instead, he decided to plough on with the magic trick before Anthony could interrupt him again. "Now watch as I make the little red ball disappear!" And before Anthony could say anything, he waved both hands in a suitably mysterious way that was designed to distract his audience while he slipped the little red ball into his trouser pocket. When no interruption was forthcoming, he waved two empty hands and smiled a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.  
  
"Wow!" Anthony grinned and clapped his hands, and Greg found himself relaxing a little. He was about to take a bow, when Anthony spoke once more. "The ball didn't disappear!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"The ball didn't disappear!"  
  
"Of course it disappeared, Anthony." Greg waved his empty hands to show a distinct lack of little red ball.  
  
"I saw you put it in your pocket." Sure enough, Anthony pointed to the very trouser pocket that now held the little red ball, and Greg couldn't help blushing furiously at the thought that Anthony had figured it out. The disappearing ball was one of his best tricks.  
  
"Anthony, the ball has disappeared," he insisted. "It is definitely not in my pocket." Anthony didn't usually get this concerned with his magic tricks unless there was food involved. This sudden fascination with the minutiae of his routine was very off-putting.  
  
"Yes it is," Anthony chuckled, and to prove his point he stepped around the table and, before Greg could stop him, shoved a hand into Greg's pocket and pulled out the little red ball with a triumphant flourish. "See?"  
  
Enough was enough. Greg snatched the ball back from the blue Wiggle, who looked quite astonished at his friend's annoyance.  
  
"How am I supposed to practise my magic when you won't leave me alone?" Greg snarled, and he picked up his magic wand and hat from the table and stomped off to his room, leaving a very confused and hurt blue Wiggle standing all alone in the kitchen.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Delicate stripes of white ambled lazily across the sky. From time to time a streak of cloud would fluff itself up into some vague shape, as if amusing itself with its cleverness. The clouds didn't give a fig for the two Wiggles watching them from the grass far below, but Jeff and Murray watched anyway, pondering each cloud formation and whiling away the day the way that only best friends with nothing to do can.  
  
"Is that a giraffe, or a sailboat?" Murray wondered out loud, pointing lazily at a particular cloud. It was hard work holding his arm up in the air, and after a moment he let it flop back down, his hand resting on his crimson-coloured shirt.  
  
"Looks more like a..." Beside him, the purple Wiggle trailed off mid-reply to let out a long, loud yawn. "More like a fire engine to me." He rubbed at one sleepy eye and stretched out, cat-like, arching his back off the grass, before settling into a more comfortable position.  
  
Murray squinted with one eye, tilting his head to look at the cloud from a new angle. "Hey!" he exclaimed, after a moment, "I think you're right." Far above, the wandering cloud began to take on a fuzzy sort of square shape, and Murray continued, "it does sort of look fire engine-y, now that you mention it." He turned his head to the side, to catch the response from his companion, but Jeff's only reply was a soft, snuffly snore. "Oh, Jeff," Murray complained, more to himself than to the purple Wiggle, who wouldn't have been able to hear him anyway.  
  
This was not an unexpected turn of events. In fact, as Murray shifted position on the verdant green where they had so often laid to watch the clouds, he found it quite a challenge not to close his eyes and doze for a while himself. It was such a comfortable spot, and the view was so peaceful and relaxing, and anyway no one blamed Jeff when he nodded off.  
  
Except...except it would have been nice, just for a change, to have a conversation. A real talk, even if it wasn't about anything important, as long as Jeff stayed awake through it all. So many thoughts could drift through Murray's mind when he watched the sky – it was often his greatest source of inspiration when he wanted to write a song – and sometimes he felt it would be wonderful to share those thoughts with someone who didn't fall asleep halfway through.  
  
Above them, white tendrils curled like smoke, and Murray decided it looked as though an artist had swirled his brush lightly over a blue canvas, unsure about what precisely he was going to paint but already in love with the contrast of colours. In the back of his mind an imaginary guitar strummed a bright E-major, and already he could feel the seeds of a song beginning to sprout. Excitedly, he turned and tapped Jeff's shoulder, needing to test out his idea on a willing audience. Jeff batted a hand against his nose and snorted, then rolled over, away from Murray.  
  
Murray frowned, and tried again. Jeff did not wake up. With growing impatience as the song twisted around inside his mind, he pushed himself up on to one elbow and prodded at Jeff's side with a finger.  
  
"Wake up, Jeff," he hissed, and poked the purple Wiggle once more. This time, Jeff let out a startled squeak, twisting away momentarily before sitting up and turning to face him.  
  
"I had the strangest dream," Jeff announced, stifling another yawn. "I dreamt I was walking through a wood, and all the bushes and branches were prickling me and poking me." He rubbed at his eyes, and for a second Murray was convinced he was about to doze off again.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, listen Jeff," he said, not wanting to appear rude but still desperate to tell the other Wiggle about his idea. "The clouds have given me an idea for a song. Will you have a listen and tell me what you think?" Jeff nodded slowly, leaning back on his elbows in an effort to get comfortable.  
  
Instantly forgetting his annoyance, Murray played back the notes in his mind to find a decent starting place, an appropriate lyric.  
  
"The grass is green, the clouds are white," he began, eyes closed as he concentrated, "Isn't it a lovely sight?" The music was quickly sounding stronger inside his head, and he began to sing with more confidence, finding the lyrics slipping easily into the tune. "Watching the clouds with my best friend...I wish this day would never end." Reaching the end of the first verse, he cautiously opened his eyes to check the reaction from his audience.  
  
It shouldn't have come as a complete surprise to find that Jeff had fallen asleep again. Still, Murray couldn't help but be a little cross. It was rather rude, he felt, to fall asleep during the world premiere of a brand new song.  
  
The more he thought about it, the angrier he felt. It was one thing for Jeff to doze off while cloud-watching, but Murray had asked him quite specifically for a reaction to the song, and how could he possibly react if he'd slept through it?  
  
Eventually, Murray decided enough was enough. He was quite fed up of having Jeff fall asleep whenever they spent any time together. So fed up, in fact, that tomorrow he was most certainly not cloud-watching with the purple Wiggle. Jeff would have to sleep somewhere else. And with that decision made, Murray climbed to his feet and set off back to the Wiggle house to write down his song, and perhaps find a more appreciative audience.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Mornings in the Wiggle house were usually a cheery affair. Greg would greet the bright sunrise from his equally sunny yellow bedroom, dress for the day in his cheeriest yellow shirt, and breakfast with his fellow Wiggles over friendly chat about their plans for the day ahead.  
  
Not so this morning. There was a definite sense of hostility in the kitchen when Greg entered. Anthony was already at the table, steadily working his way through a breakfast that could have fed all four Wiggles and perhaps a few guests too, and he studiously avoided Greg's eyes as the yellow Wiggle appeared. It pained Greg to see a Wiggle sitting all alone, but any thoughts of apologising were tempered when he remembered his annoyance from the previous day. Whether he meant to be or not, Anthony was such a pest sometimes, and with him around Greg simply could not practise his magic. His mind was made up: today, Greg did not want Anthony around at all.  
  
Trying hard to ignore the presence of the blue Wiggle, Greg helped himself to a glass of orange juice from the fridge and left the kitchen to take a seat in the living room, where he wouldn't have to worry so much about Anthony's presence. In his haste, he almost didn't notice Jeff dozing quietly in the overstuffed armchair. Greg eyed the smallest Wiggle for a moment, feeling extra awkward at the realisation that someone else might have to witness his not-talking-to-Anthony, until he was sure Jeff wouldn't wake up any time soon, then he sat himself down on his yellow beanbag and began to drink his juice. Over in the kitchen, Anthony continued to ignore him, which shouldn't have been a problem except that Greg was so aware of being ignored. It made him uncomfortable and more than a little cross: after all, he was the one with good reason to be annoyed, and so he decided to work even harder on ignoring Anthony. Which was tough work, and Greg was convinced that all this ignoring would be enough to wake up Jeff.  
  
Eventually, the red bedroom door opened, and Greg relaxed a little as Murray emerged from his bedroom. He stopped ignoring Anthony long enough to wish Murray a deliberately cheery "good morning". Murray responded in kind and began to move into the living room to sit with Greg, but when he noticed Jeff asleep in his chair, Murray did something very strange. He paused, appeared to think hard for a moment, then set his face into a determined expression and turned around, moving instead to join Anthony at the table.  
  
This was most strange. Greg glanced surreptitiously between Wiggles red and purple. What on earth had happened to make Murray want to avoid Jeff?  
  
"So what are your plans for today?" Murray asked Anthony, helping himself to an orange from the fruit bowl on the kitchen table. Greg fixed his gaze on the floor by his feet, determined not to let on that he was listening in, even though he couldn't help but hear, as the only other sounds in the house were Jeff's gentle snoring and Anthony's constant chewing.  
  
"I don't know, Murray," was the reply. "I don't have any plans." In his beanbag chair, Greg could feel the weight of an accusatory stare on him, but he held firm, refusing to look up. Out of the corner of his eye, he could just see Murray looking between the yellow and blue Wiggles, evidently confused.  
  
"How about you, Greg?"  
  
Now that the conversation had opened up to include him, Greg allowed himself to look up at Murray, but he noticed with mild annoyance that Anthony was once more devoting his attention to his breakfast. He stiffened momentarily, pursing his lips in an effort to control his irritation, then told Murray, "I think I'll practise my magic. If I can get some peace and quiet." He could almost hear Anthony's indignation, but he managed not to break into a smug grin. "What about you, Murray? What are you doing today?" Intent as he was on ignoring Anthony, Greg managed to catch Murray's uncertain glance at Jeff, and again wondered just what had happened to make Murray stop speaking to him.  
  
"I think I'm going to take my guitar out and watch the clouds," Murray told him. "I've been working on a new song. When it's finished, I might need someone to listen to it, but..." There was a pause, and once more the red Wiggle risked a fleeting look at Jeff. "But I don't know who to ask."  
  
"I'll go with you," Anthony announced, almost before Murray had finished speaking. At this interruption, Murray spun around in his seat, clearly surprised at Anthony's offer. Almost as surprised as Greg was.  
  
"Are you sure?" Murray asked, uncertainly.  
  
"Yeah," Anthony assured him. "It'll be nice to do something different for a change." He shot Greg a brief but pointed stare, before rising to his feet and heading over towards the door.  
  
"Well, alright then," Murray replied, standing up as well. He looked towards Greg for some indication of what was going on, but Greg turned his attention back to his glass of juice. When it became clear that there would be no response, Murray ducked back into his bedroom long enough to retrieve his guitar, then followed Anthony out the door.  
  
Greg sat in stunned silence for a moment, not sure whether he was meant to feel insulted, or happy that he finally had the peace and quiet he needed to practice his magic. It would have been nice to be annoyed, to shout and rant about how Anthony was supposed to be the one feeling bad for disturbing his practice, but the only other person around was Jeff, who was fast asleep and entirely unable to listen to him being mad, which meant that shouting was sort of pointless, really. So Greg decided to be pleased instead, and set about gathering the things he needed to practise his magic.  
  
Some time later, the yellow Wiggle stood by the kitchen table, now cleared of Anthony's impressive breakfast, ready to begin. He adjusted his magic hat carefully, shrugged his shoulders until his magic cape settled comfortably, and with a wave of his hands, launched into his act.  
  
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, I'm Greg the Great. For my first trick, I will..." He paused, without thinking. This was usually the point when Anthony asked him to do something like pull a plate of pasta out of his hat, or turn a fresh egg into a cooked breakfast. Instead, there was silence. Uninterrupted, blissful, silence. Greg smiled.  
  
"I will make this little red ball disappear!" It might have been nice, Greg mused, to hear the usual "ooooh" of anticipation that usually came when he announced each magic trick, but he dismissed the sense of unfamiliarity with the thought that it was a pleasant change to be able to concentrate so completely on his act instead of asking a certain Wiggle to stop interrupting.  
  
He waved his hands, displaying the little red ball to his imaginary audience, then with a deviously clever little flourish, palmed the ball and dropped it into his pocket, all the time drawing attention to his other, empty, hand.  
  
"And as you can see, the ball has completely disappeared!"  
  
The Wiggle house was filled with a thunderous silence. Greg couldn't hold back a tug of disappointment. He removed the little red ball from his pocket, feeling a little strange at not having to hide it from anyone, and placed it carefully on the table where it couldn't roll off and escape him. He thought for a moment, an idea forming that might or might not be absolutely wonderful.  
  
Another moment's contemplation, and his mind was made up.  
  
"Jeff?" he called, stepping a little closer to the sleeping Wiggle. "Wake up, Jeff!" Jeff mumbled something in his sleep, half-raised one eyelid, then turned over and began to snore. Frowning, Greg moved to stand beside the chair where the purple Wiggle slept, and reached out to shake his shoulder. "Wake up, Jeff!" he said again, louder this time.  
  
At last, Jeff opened both eyes, staring up at Greg in the confused way of those just waking. "I was having a wonderful dream," Jeff told him, just the faintest hint of irritation in his voice.  
  
"I'm sure you were," Greg interrupted before Jeff could begin to relate his latest dream, "but I want you to watch this."  
  
"Watch what?"  
  
"Watch me make this ball disappear." Greg gestured towards the little red ball, where it still sat on the kitchen table.  
  
Jeff got as far as "well, I suppose," before Greg dashed over to the table to begin his act.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen!" he announced to a rather bemused purple Wiggle, "prepare to be amazed and astounded as I make this perfectly ordinary red ball..." he paused for effect, not caring that Jeff knew what he was going to say anyway, "disappear!" He waved both hands dramatically, to show he was indeed holding a perfectly ordinary red ball, and then looked back to his audience, to check that Jeff was suitably excited.  
  
But Jeff was asleep.  
  
Greg stamped his foot impatiently. He was well aware that this was a pointless and slightly childish thing to, but Greg didn't care. Jeff was supposed to be amazed and astounded, not snoring quietly in his chair.  
  
"Wake up, Jeff!"  
  
Immediately, Jeff opened his eyes, leapt from the chair and launched into a ridiculous monkey impersonation, complete with sound effects.  
  
"I just dreamt I was a monkey," he cried as he danced past Greg. Furious, Greg shot out a hand and caught hold of Jeff's arm.  
  
"Listen," Greg hissed through clenched teeth, "you're not a monkey, and nobody finds that funny. Now, you're going to sit in your chair, you're going to watch me make the little red ball disappear, then you're going to applaud and tell me how bloody amazed and astounded you are. Got it?" Satisfied that he'd gotten his point across, he released the purple Wiggle, who returned quickly to his chair, rubbing his arm, eyes still wide in shock. "Now," Greg continued, his voice returning to near normal, "watch as I make the little red ball disappear." Once more a flourish of his hands, then Greg secretly slipped the little red ball into his trouser pocket. He finished by blowing into the hand that supposedly now held the ball, then waggled his fingers to show that it had disappeared. "Ta-da!" He turned triumphantly to his audience, waiting for the applause.  
  
Jeff snored, wrinkled his nose, and snuggled further into his chair.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Murray couldn't remember a time when the clouds had been more beautiful. They tripped languorously across the sky, making it clear they had all the time in the world and nowhere at all to get to, and Murray envied them. What a life it must be.  
  
All around him, nature produced the most incredible pictures, with seemingly no effort at all. The grass beneath him was lush and soft, the birds sang with a sweetness he knew he could never match. What better place to premiere his new song?  
  
"What about this recipe?"  
  
Murray sighed. He had hoped that his fellow Wiggle would be able to appreciate the scenery, since Murray had never brought him here before. Anthony had taken one look at the vista and asked him, "is that an orchard over there?" Now Anthony had his head buried in a recipe book, trying to plan his menu for the week.  
  
"Don't you think the sky looks amazing today?" Murray asked him, trying to change the subject. Thankfully, Anthony closed his book and looked up at last.  
  
"It's so blue," he announced, as though he'd never seen the sky before in his life. Murray tried to hide a smile: maybe now Anthony would be distracted long enough to think about something other than food. "Do you know there isn't a single food in the world that's naturally blue?"  
  
This time Murray sighed. He didn't have a problem with Anthony's food issues, but he hadn't realised before just how much time Anthony spent talking about food. He'd already eaten two apples that he'd smuggled into his pockets before leaving the house, and of course there was his current choice of reading material.  
  
"What do you think about broccoli and banana quiche for dinner tonight, Murray?"  
  
Murray ignored him, turning his attention back to his song.  
  
"I want to play you something," he told the blue Wiggle. "Will you tell me what you think when it's done?" Anthony nodded.  
  
The notebook in Murray's lap was now filled with scrawled lyrics and fragments of notation that, to him at least, spelled out perhaps his greatest song yet. Allowing himself one final glance at the page, Murray picked up his guitar, ready to play.  
  
"Okay, here goes," he told Anthony, finding the first chord. There was a familiar flutter in his belly, the anticipation that always came with the birth of a new song, but Murray was confident that this song was something special. Finally ready, he looked at Anthony, to make sure the other Wiggle was ready too.  
  
"Do you think red peppers would taste good with custard?" Anthony asked, still turning the pages of his recipe book.  
  
"Anthony!"  
  
"Sorry." Appropriately embarrassed, Anthony closed his book and watched Murray expectantly. Satisfied that he could finally begin, Murray cleared his throat and once again picked out the first chord.  
  
His guitar hummed contentedly as he began to play, the words to the first verse lining themselves up in his mind, ready to be sung for the first time.  
  
"The sky is blue, the clouds are white, isn't it a lovely sight? I wish the day would never end, when I watch the clouds with my best friend."  
  
Something tugged deep in his belly as he sang, and he couldn't help but feel a little sorry at the thought of Jeff all alone back at home. He'd had the idea for the song while he was with Jeff, and although he'd never admit it to Anthony or to Greg, the 'best friend' line really was about Jeff more than any of the other Wiggles.  
  
As he continued into the bridge, he glanced up at his audience, hoping to catch some indication of Anthony's response. The blue Wiggle stared off into the distance, seemingly enraptured by the song, and Murray couldn't hold back a smile. His fingers skipped over the strings, moving into the second verse, and he drew a deep breath ready to sing again.  
  
"Oh, it's - "  
  
"You know, it is an orchard!" Anthony's voice cut through the song, and Murray's left hand slipped, turning what should have been a cheerful A- major into a discordant mess that made him wince. "I think I'm going to go see if the apples are ready to be picked."  
  
He was halfway to his feet before Murray let go of his guitar and yanked Anthony back down.  
  
"Now listen here," Murray snapped, his face as red as his skivvy, "I worked damn hard on this song, and if you don't sit here and listen to it, I'll..."  
  
He was interrupted by a cry from across the field. Still holding on to Anthony's shirt, Murray looked round, trying to find the source of the noise.  
  
On the other side of the field was a strange yellow blur that was quickly moving closer and closer. As Murray and Anthony watched, the blur took on the more definite shape of Greg Wiggle, and as he neared they saw, being towed along behind him, a rather distraught and confused Jeff. Without a word from any of them, Greg marched up, let go of Jeff's arm without warning, thus depositing him in a painful heap on the ground beside Murray, then caught hold of Anthony's sleeve, pulled him to his feet and proceeded to march back across the field, leaving behind a very stunned Murray.  
  
When Greg and Anthony had disappeared, Murray turned at last to Jeff.  
  
"What on earth was all that about?" he asked.  
  
Jeff rubbed at his arm, evidently in pain. "I have no idea," he replied. "I woke up and you'd gone out without me, and Greg started shouting something about balls. I thought I was having a nightmare!"  
  
Murray couldn't help but chuckle, even though he was still as confused as Jeff. Perhaps his song could wait a little longer. Right now, all he wanted to do was relax, and forget all about Greg and Anthony. He carefully set his guitar to one side, and stretched out on the grass to watch the clouds. Jeff soon lay down beside him, and it wasn't long before he was snoring gently. Murray hadn't realised how much he had missed that sound.  
  
He watched the clouds sweeping overhead, fluffy white rabbits chasing carrots made of cloud. After a moment, he heard Jeff shifting on the grass beside him. The purple Wiggle rolled over until his head bumped against Murray's chest, and a purple-sleeved arm was flung lazily over his middle. Murray smiled as Jeff snuggled against him, and murmured, "I missed you, Jeff."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"And as you can see, the little red ball has completely disappeared!" Greg waved his hands to prove they were empty.  
  
On the other side of the kitchen table, Anthony raised a hand to interrupt. "No it hasn't. You put it in your pocket again!" Before Greg could protest, Anthony had dashed around to his side of the table and stuck a hand into his trouser pocket to pull out the little red ball.  
  
"Why don't you do the one with the hankies and the box of mystery?" Anthony asked, absently rolling the ball between his fingers. "You're very good at that one, and I can't work out how you do it at all."  
  
Greg beamed. How on earth could he have even contemplated sending away such a responsive audience? He reached out to take back the red ball, but changed his mind and caught hold of Anthony's arm instead. The blue Wiggle flinched, as if expecting to be dragged back across the field, but Greg only smiled wider and pulled his confused friend into a hug.  
  
"Don't ever go out without me again," he told Anthony. After a moment he heard the little red ball fall and bounce across the kitchen floor as Anthony eagerly returned the hug, squeezing him tight.  
  
"Never," Anthony replied. "Never ever."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 


End file.
